Page 57 of By the Sword
‘I understand,’ Nell said. ‘I always thought of Seven Ways as my home but now I feel I don’t belong anywhere.’
Kate stood up and walked over to the window. The green fields, the Thornton lands, rolled away, fringed by the woods. How could it all seem so peaceful?
Without William or Suzanne to turn to, and no hope of Jonathan re-entering her life, Kate had never felt so utterly alone in her life.
***
Obedient to her request, the following morning Kate found Jacob Howell, the bailiff of the Seven Ways estate, waiting in the downstairs parlour with the estate books tucked under his arm. His father and his father before him had been a bailiff for the Thorntons, and Sir Francis had relied heavily on Jacob in thelast few years. Kate knew he was well liked and well respected by the tenants. In short, he was a good bailiff and a fair man.
Kate smiled at him as she swept into the parlour. She had met him once on her last visit and then only fleetingly. She recalled the quiet, almost taciturn man with a long, mournful face who regarded her now with an unreadable countenance. Nell had warned her that he could be reticent in his dealings with women and despite Sir Francis’s recommendation he viewed the new mistress of the house with the greatest suspicion.
‘Master Howell, good morning,’ she said, indicating a seat at the table. ’Please sit. Are those the books?’
He set the books on the table and sat down. She pulled her chair up next to him and opened the first volume.
It was early afternoon before Kate laid down her pen and leaned back in her chair. Due mainly to Sir Francis’ careful management over the last few years, the estate was not as badly off as it could have been. The fines, which had been massive, had mostly been met by the sale of lands not connected with Seven Ways itself, and while it was by no means wealthy, the estate had begun to pay its way again.
However, the figures revealed a couple of matters of immediate concern.
‘Why the low price for the stock sold at market?’ she asked. ‘In Yorkshire, fat sheep would be fetching twice that amount.’
Jacob, hastily swallowing the last of the pie supplied for his lunch, said, ‘That’s Price’s doing. We’re forced to sell to him. No one else durst go over him for fear he will turn on them. It’s no secret that he covets this land for himself and he hopes to beggar us by buying our stock at below cost.’
Kate frowned. The necessity for an interview with Price had become urgent. She did not relish the prospect.
‘What about the reports that his men have been trespassing on our land?’ she asked.
‘Aye. They’ve been harrying the tenants and there have been a few unexplained fires and stock losses.’ Jacob scowled. ‘Nothing we can prove. Anyway, even if we could, Price is the local magistrate.’
Kate set aside the problem of Colonel Price for the moment and turned back to her tenants.
‘What about the Barlows?’ Kate tapped the cover of the second volume. ‘They’re months behind in their rent.’
Jacob nodded slowly. ‘I’ll admit I’ve done naught about them,’ he replied. ‘Jem Barlow took a bad knock on the head during the war and has been addled ever since. He’s good for naught. His wife Susan and their boy have tried their best but truth is, Mistress, I’ve no heart to chase them.’
Kate looked at him. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘Well, Mistress, rightly speaking you should turn them out.’ Jacob left an unspoken ‘but’ at the end of his sentence.
Kate sighed. ‘We’ll ride over and see them tomorrow,’ she said, ‘but first I think a visit to Colonel Price is called for.’
‘We? Do you want me to come?’ Jacob asked.
Kate smiled. ‘Jacob, you’re an old soldier, surely you have faced worse in the field?’
Jacob sighed, ‘Aye, Mistress, but I were better armed. Yon Colonel Price, he holds the whole armoury.’
Kate stood up and handed the estate books back to her bailiff. ‘Tomorrow morning, Jacob, please.’
Chapter 17
Colonel John Price stumped into the parlour of Longley Abbey where his man had shown Kate and Jacob Howell. Kate curtsied politely and he returned the greeting with a curt nod of his head.
As she rose to face him Kate summed up the small, portly man with a receding hairline, unsuccessfully disguised by brushing his hair over his pate. His florid, self-important face told her all she needed to know about the sort of man she had to deal with.
She, in turn, had dressed carefully for the interview in a plain gown of black wool, relieved only by a spotless white collar with the narrowest lace edge, matched by the white linen matron’s cap. Mindful of Jonathan’s lessons on the subject of disguise and subterfuge, she hoped that she presented as the picture of a godly widow.
‘You have business with me, madam?’
